Rubber Soul

Why I love this city #36

2011-09-11T21:36:00.004+05:30

1. You can do anything and everything.
2. Increase your brain power with tantra.
3. Move on sucker.
4. Food clothing and girlfriends.
5. Mera naam mera kaam.

These are five Kannada movie taglines I saw on streetside posters today.

Nothing like a "Move on sucker" to get you rushing into the theatres, is there?
_____________________

Why I love Law School #16

"There are some speeches which will not cause public disorder; there are some speeches which will, there are some which are likely to, but might not, there are some which are not likely to but might and there are some which may or may not. A restriction on a speech that will result in public disorder is undoubtedly in the interests of public order; on the other hand a restriction on a speech that will not is undoubtedly not one in the interests of public order.

A restriction on a speech that is likely to result in public disorder, or on a speech that may or not result in public disorder, must be held to be in the interests of public order. There should not only be no public disorder but also there should be no threat to public order."

Ram Nandan v. State,I.L.R. (1958) All. 84.

How man, how?

Allow me this.

2011-07-17T19:09:00.002+05:30

Something that started for me 12 years ago, at Landmark, Nungambakkam, came to an end today. This really does feel like the end of an era.

But the end of my childhood? No way, Jose.

Harry Potter, you made my childhood, my pre-pubescence and my teens so much more meaningful. You made me laugh. You made me want to be your best friend. You made me want to come to Hogwarts. I wanted to play Quidditch. I wanted to eat Chocolate Frogs. I wanted to visit Hogsmeade. I feared the Basilisk. I fell for Sirius. I respected Albus Dumbledore and everything he stood for. I rooted for Ron and Hermione to get together. I cheered for Gryffindor. I shook my head and told myself it was only a matter of time before you broke up with Cho. I felt Snape’s pain, and I felt it deeply. I marvelled at how the Great Battle played out. I smiled at how long it took, and how hard it was, to get there. I counted the days before I could get to read more of you off my calendar. I read the books over and over again, until I could get at their essence, and make sure I could stand up for them in the face of my friends’ criticism. I watched every movie, barring the last one, the first day it released. Despite their flaws, I was there.

I made your world mine.

For me, no piece of fiction can come close to what you mean to me. I only hope every little kid, and in my case, every 17 year old, has something like you to turn to. For escape, for companionship, for good writing.

Contrary to what I said earlier, this is not the end of an era. I know I’ll seek you out many times in the future, and find you just as comforting as I always have. And in the process, find the child in me who could once get high at the very mention of you.

So, Harry Potter, for now, I fare you well. My mind will wander every now and then, and as always, it will find you. I hope James, Al and Lily are alright. And if Rose and Scorpius ever get together, know that they have my full blessing. Pip pip!

Happy shiny person.

2011-06-28T20:55:00.002+05:30

I think I was 4 when I first thought of doing something when I grew up. I told my parents I wanted to be a mermaid. Only to be told that mermaids didn't exist.

Then, like all good Indian kids, although I never did grow up on Swat Kats or Jonny Quest, I thought medicine. And I thought medicine was it. First it was cardiology (yes, I honestly knew all those big words), for a very embarrassing reason. Then it was Psychiatry, because I passed by NIMHANS once and it seemed like a pretty cool place to walk down the corridors of. Next was Neurology, followed by Dermatology (Dr Atulaa MD, Dermatologist; sounds mighty cool, non?) and Oncology.

Soon after, I heard of the term 'genetic engineering'. Genetic. Engineering. Something no one my age knew of. And latter half of which everybody seemed to want to do, and were impressed by. I'd dream of creating 'designer babies' (Oh, the horror.) and worse, tell people about it. And winning the Nobel Prize for setting new precedents in Bio-informatics was part of the agenda too, yes.

Before you try to imagine the kind of brat that was 11 yr old me, I'll stop. Long story short, I thought Bio was my thing. Plus, thanks to my very vocal dreaming, so did my parents. A minor application of Sod's law and a few years later, I found that I wouldn't spend any more time with the sciences even if I was paid. No sir. Not me. Good riddance. Khattam shud.

I knew it. And if Science had a voice, I'm sure it would tell you as much. The challenge was getting my parents to agree. I remember that it was hard, but I honestly don't know how I did it. All I will tell you is that an e-mail was involved. An e-mail with lists and tabulations. An e-mail with data. The objective of that e-mail was to tell my parents, and on some level to show myself, that if I was doing anything in college, it would have to be law.

I won't go into too much detail over what happened in the last two years, mostly because not much did; you are free to picture me studying hard for the law entrances throughout, chugging away like a little steam engine, preferably to 'It's my Life' in the background (HA!). But you should know that there was confusion, there was annoyance, there were periods of self-doubt, LONG periods of lethargy. Hmm.

After ALL of which, I'm now in college. I'm in law school. The dream has become a reality and all that jazz.

I'm Atulaa Krishnamurthy,
I BA LLB (Hons.)
National Law School of India University.

And I'm a happy shiny person.

PS- Yes, this whole post was an excuse for me to say that.

What you see is what you want.

2011-04-09T22:28:00.000+05:30

A Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood,
The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo,
A plum pin-tucked tunic from Anokhi,
And knickerbockers of cotton blue.

Soap from Lush that your nose just loves,
A hardbound Wodehouse omnibus,
A miniature Porsche 911,
Talk to the Hand by Lynne Truss.

Rainbow coloured Converse shoes,
A Pink Floyd calender for the year,
Burberry Vanilla, Nina Ricci's Apple,
Some Godiva truffles to beat the drear.

All these clamour for my attention,
And succeed, but it's all the worse,
For what use is longing and wanting,
To one with an empty purse?

To do list.

2011-03-22T08:40:00.002+05:30

I’ve just finished arguably the most important examination of my life, but I’m not as hyper as I thought I’d be. Is this my head’s way of telling me I could’ve done more justice to them? I don’t know, and I’d best not think about it.

One piece of news is that il mio telefonino is back, and I’m glad to be in constant touch with the outside world. Although I’ve observed that texting is NOT like riding a bicycle; I’ll need some time to get used to my keypad again (Okay, the longer I think about it, the more convinced I am that I’m a disgrace to my generation).

But I must say the start of summer is evoking strong sentiment in me. The prospect of college is looming large, and I cannot fathom when getting into the college of my choice suddenly became a short term goal from being a long term one. I feel like I’m flapping around in meaninglessness, not starting my day with my Integration formulae chart or the Commerce PTA one-words. While I don’t think I’ll miss the subjects by themselves, I feel a certain degree of loss to think I won’t be studying Commerce or Accountancy or even Maths so intensively ever again. You see, it’s like this. You’re seeing this guy, a bad-boy type, and you know it’s only a matter of time before it ends. The time comes and you part ways amicably, happy with how you conducted yourself in the relationship. But there’s always residual affection for the chap, coupled with feelings of not doing the relationship full justice and memories of all the good times. But you can only move on, and hope, when you do run into him again, that some level of goodwill remains. Like that.

Metaphor fails apart, I know for a fact that I’ll miss all the people I’ve been seeing on a daily basis, and I hope college and majorhood will bring with it a lot of roadtrips, National SMS boosters and Skype calls.

Anyhow, I’ve been thinking of all the movies I want to watch this summer. Some of them I’ve watched already, some I’ve abandoned halfway and some, I’m abashed to say, I haven’t watched. So without further ado, here’s my summer wishlist.

1) The Shawshank Redemption.
2) A Clockwork Orange.
3) Mulholland Drive
4) 300
5) When Harry Met Sally
6) Yojimbo
7) Annie Hall
8) Requiem for a Dream
9) Love Actually
10) LOTR trilogy
11) Star Wars (of course)
12) Black Swan
13) Mulan
14) Reservoir Dogs
15) Pulp Fiction
16) Amadeus
17) Howl’s Moving Castle
18) Kill Bill Vol 1 and 2
19) Rosemary’s Baby
20) The Usual Suspects
21) Children of Heaven
22) Kuruthipunal
23) Snatch
24) Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels
25) Superbad (Yes, so WHAT?)
26) Fight Club
27) Inception
28) Raging Bull
29) Taxi Driver
30) Rebel without a Cause
31) Life is Beautiful
32) Amelie
33) The Holiday
34) Toy Story 3
35) Godfather Part 1 and 2.

And yes, season 6 and 7 of House. Now, because I do not want any speculation on which of these movies I may or may not have watched, let me ask you a question. If faced with the Prisoner’s Dilemma, what would you do?

School of Rock

2011-02-11T19:00:00.002+05:30

What do I remember about yesterday, you ask?

Walking down KK Lane, all of a sudden acutely aware of all the political slogans painted on the compound wall of the Collector’s office. Seeing all the Annual Day pictures up for display on the first floor landing, while speaking to a couple of ninth graders. Stopping by the second floor Water Doctor, and glancing at the Ratna Residency signboard against the sky. Walking into class and straight to my desk (third row, third column) without having to think about it, after which Thenmozhi Ma’am, in the teachers’ pink uniform sari, asked us to go down to the Shuttle Court for the Lighting Ceremony.

Standing outside the Shuttle Court and catching sight of the farewell invitation, while listening to a beautifully delivered story in the morning assembly. Receiving my brass lamp from Usharani Ma’am and falling at her feet. Standing besides Asha, trying to salvage whatever little oil I could from my leaking lamp. Rolling my eyes at the many ‘light’ metaphors made by practically everyone in their speeches. Going up on stage and finding that it was terribly hard to sound casual in what was the last speech I would make in that hall, as a student of that school. Seeing everyone else put into words what I’d forgotten to say. Seeing four boys walk up onstage and declare, ‘We promised ourselves last year that we wouldn’t come stand up here and be sentimental and cry. We really want to keep that promise, so we’re going to sit down onstage right now’ to loud cheers. Laughing as the aforementioned four boys exhorted our juniors to opt for commerce when the time came.

Posing for the Batch of ’11 picture. Posing for the XII C picture. Posing for the Leaders’ picture. Shuffling back into the Shuttle Court to hear our juniors say nice things about friendship and school life. Hearing Sandeep strum the intro to ‘Give me some sunshine’ and applauding as our juniors filed in and sang it to us. Talking to Saishree about standing up and singing along. Being unable to carry out aforementioned filmi plan as song got over.

Playing dodgeball against XII D. Winning. Running around collecting items for Queen of Sheba. Lifting a heavy fire bucket across the school grounds. Ordering people to run around collecting steel plates and tamarinds and fire extinguishers. Coming second in aforesaid event. Playing against XII A in the dodge-ball finals. Winning again. Talking about ‘defusing bio-weapons’, inadvertently setting off a Facebook gang war in the process. Getting our hands dirty while playing another event involving sand and buckets.

Standing first in line for lunch. Eating baby corn fry, parotas and fried rice with kurma. Eating some excellent thayir saadham. Jostling the rest for malai kulfi and eating the same in erm, a visually suggestive manner. Noticing how, over the course of the day, the juniors ran around getting things done. Wondering at the amount of planning and preparation that had gone into the day. Playing with the balloons and streamers that the 11th std students had hung up all over the place. Going to the girls’ loo, the French room, the library and the rest of our regular haunts. For the first time, fully understanding how much this place has given me and how much it would cost me to leave. Telling the eleventh graders just how special they’d made the day for us. Taking picture after picture and yet feeling like it wasn’t enough. Laughing. Feeling special.

Yesterday was awesome, and anything else I try to put into words will only sound simplistic.

I'll miss school. And I'll miss all of you.

Attempts..

2010-12-19T12:33:00.001+05:30

..at Haiku.

1) No can do.

I can't swim, but I
dip in pools as shallow as
girls on Splitsvilla.

2) It happens.

She farted, sounding
like a Dettol bottle spurt
its last bits of goo.

3) Who doesn't?

He won't agree, but
applause and validation
is what he writes for.

4) Vertical challenge

Don't stare at us so,
so what if he's over a
foot taller than me?

5) Procedure

She looks down, seeming
suitably shy as she gives
the boy's side coffee.

6) Stars

Hugh Laurie, Abhay
Deol, Jake Gyllenhal and
Clooney rock my socks.

Five Point Someone

2010-12-19T12:31:00.002+05:30

Here’s the thing with adapting a much-loved novel for the stage. It’s not unlike Operation Pendulum; you either win public adulation purely on the book’s tried-and-tested merit, or public wrath for not doing it justice. However, evam struck a fine balance in their version of Chetan Bhagat’s ‘Five Point Someone’. While staying true to the book’s essence, they managed to hold their own, with apt lighting and a solid cast (Navin, Bhargav and Sudarshan as the three bumbling protagonists performed with flair). The audience evidently enjoyed the show, thanks to its overall feel-good quality and tight script. Barring the length and occasional profanity, which a few understandably frowned upon, it was a treat for all ages. I personally loved the undercurrent of Pink Floyd that played all evening, characterizing the play’s mood. After all, one can never go wrong with Floyd!

A review I wrote. This appeared in the Citizen Reviews section of The Hindu Metroplus.

Trial run.

2010-09-29T12:25:00.005+05:30

Blog post #50! Woo hoo!
______________________________

"Do you think those two'll last?"

Vivek studied the aforementioned couple over his bottle of 7Up, hoping he was sufficiently subtle and sounded sufficiently disinterested. Sreesha whirled around to stare at them, causing Vivek to groan and wonder at the sudden loss of the powerful peripheral vision Sreesha claimed to have. The couple, however, was oblivious. Vivek and Sreesha stood outside the 'potti kadai', the one so strategically located outside the girls' hostel.

"Why do you ask, da? They fit. Not half as bad as the rest in campus", said Sreesha. "No, look at them, they've been having that serious discussion ever since we came here. Could it be trouble?", Vivek said as he averted his eyes from the guy and his stupid new haircut. Sreesha gave the two another glance and said, "No, they're smiling. That means the conversation isn't serious, it's earnest. Anyway you kind of know Kanya, don't you? Ask her yourself, how things are with Naveen." Vivek finished his bottle of 7Up and stood up. "Not like I care, I just asked." He noticed how Naveen was standing right next to the 'No males allowed after this point' signboard, where the lane that led to the girls' hostel diverged from the main path everyone took. He considered pushing Naveen well past the signboard just to see if he'd get into trouble.

Sreesha stood up too, and dusted her salwar. "Kanya!", she called out without warning, to general surprise, "We're going to watch Endhiran man! I have an extra ticket, coming?" Kanya half-smiled and mouthed 'no'. Sreesha shrugged and waved Naveen goodbye, following Vivek as he made his way to the parking lot, staring at naught but his phone.

"Aren't you PSYCHED, Vivek?! Let's throw confetti all over the place, okay?!", Sreesha said as she got into Vivek's car.
Vivek, still looking at his phone, said "Yeah totally. By the way, you might want to give me prior warning before inviting Kanya along next time." Especially to a movie. In the dark. Where she might fully be sitting next to him. Not for the first time, he cursed cruel chance, and wondered why a girl like Kanya was saddled with a total, unadulterated ass like Naveen.
________________________

Despite the untimely brooding, Vivek found himself having the time of his life. Ultimate Thalaivar padam experience, he updated his Facebook status from his phone. They walked out of the movie theater, giddy, just like everyone else who'd been part of the yelling, whistling and yes, confetti-throwing crowd. "That was brilliant. Wasn't it brilliant?", asked Sreesha, still carrying her popcorn container. "Yeah. Yeah! When you think about it, all of us in that theater were bound by a single gossamer thread. A gossamer thread named Rajinikanth." Sreesha stared at him, and said, "Or a gossamer thread named Aishwarya Rai. Or a gossamer thread named ARR." Vivek ignored her, staring into the distance. "Man, my body thrills at the thought." Sreesha stared at him again. "Your 'body thrills'? Reading Letters to the Penthouse again, are we?"
________________________

Vivek walked Sreesha down to the signboard outside the girls' hostel. "I don't wanna goooo", she whined, "I wanna watch Endhiran again!"
"Yes you might have mentioned that in the car. And before you got in. And right after you got out.", said Vivek, stifling a yawn, "Now go sleep, Sreesh. You have classes starting at 8 in the morning."
"Take me up to the guys' hostel at least, I'll sit and play rummy with Farookh and gang. I've never seen your room alsooo!"
Vivek sighed. She generally got like this, post 9 PM. "There's nothing in my room. Just our dirty clothes, my Hendrix poster and the guys."
Sreesha giggled, ostensibly at some private joke, and then quieted down. "Hey", she said.
"Hey."
"We need to talk."
"Tell me."
"Listen. I'm going to say this before I lose the courage to. I really like you. You're such an awesome guy, and there are so many things about you I've grown to adore. Its adorable, how you call making out necking or, at most, smooching. And how you think Susheela Raman's version of Nagumomu is sacrilege. And how you swear at lousy drivers, and how you're so meticulous when it comes to your writing. You know you've always been special to me, right? You've been my friend for the last 3 years, and my best friend for more than 2 of those years. Let's give us a shot, no? I'm sure we can handleit . How ever it goes."
She paused. He said nothing.
"Okay, I know I'm no Kanya Padmanabhan.." Vivek gave a start. "Oh please da, I know how you look at her. Yeah, so I know I'm no Kanya Padmanabhan, but I'm no dog either."
She let out a small giggle. He said nothing.
"And we've seen each other at our best and worst, so no surprises there, right? I don't know why I'm saying this now. Hell, I don't even know if this came out the way I wanted it to, but there you go. I like you, maybe even more than like you. What do you think?" She looked up at him apprehensively. "I pause for a reply." She grinned, tentatively. He did like it when she quoted Shakespeare.

Vivek cleared his throat. Scratched the side of his nose.
__________________________

Vivek's childhood bud Mohit always told his friends the story of his cat, who accidentally fell into the washing machine once, tumbled around in it with the clothes, but miraculously survived. Survived to father 9 kittens. Vivek had always wondered how out of sorts the poor thing must have felt inside the washer, with no control, with clothes of all those colours swirling around him. With him. Going where the water took him. Banging into uncomfortable corners.

Now he knew.

He left Sreesha at the signboard. His memory told him he responded to her with something like, "Well. I don't know. Its so.. you know?" and left with a hurried good night. The solid stupidity of his reply made him want to bang his head against the wall.

She was special, there was no doubt about it. At the same time, she wasn't Kanya. No one could even come close. He remembered how Kanya had once told him that they would be each others' back-ups. The person the other would turn to, in case s/he was lonely and sad at age 28. He didn't know why he kept thinking about that, seeing how she A) definitely wasn't lonely and sad now and B) she had said the same on Google Talk.
His phone beeped. He unlocked his keypad, momentarily forgetting the security code, and opened a message from Lolcat. Sreesha's contact name. "Hey... I know I was abrupt, sorry for throwing it at you like that.. Take your time.. But I don't take back what I said...".
He threw his phone on his bed, only to hear it beep again. A message from Kanya. Unreal man, he thought. He assumed she had sent him her customary 'Gud nyt. From kanya & naveen.' mass message, and clicked 'Read'. 'Hey every1. Naveen & me r over as of 2day. Its been a long tym comin, but its stil hard. I'm thankful 2 yu al for yur help & counsel. Thnx 4 bein there 4 me."
He stared at the white lights of his phone. They were pretty lights. Kanya and Naveen were over. Pretty lights, still.

His roommate walked into their room. "Dei, tomorrow lab exam da. Finished record eh?"

Vivek groaned and kicked off his shoes. Threw his phone onto his bed. Swore and dropped into his chair.

He looked up at his sympathetic roommate. "Dai. Oru quarter sollu da."

Tomorrow was another day.

Wanderlust.

2010-07-15T17:57:00.001+05:30

I feel a real, tangible sadness every time I sit in class and my English teacher tells us she visits two new places (Egypt last December, Cambodia this December) every year. A sadness that makes me want to jump out of all the yellowness (inside joke) and catch the next bus to Uttaranchal.

I don’t want to go into the details- the restlessness in my feet, the tingling in my nerves (/blood vessels?), the pulsing in my head, that feeling of wanting to scream my lungs out and grit my teeth all at once- but at the end of every day, I tell myself I will have visited all the following places before my hopefully natural death at age 81.

1) Macchu Picchu. Cos it looks beautiful in pictures.
2) Leh. Ditto.
3) Rishikesh. For the white water rafting and everyone goes there.
4) Walden Pond. For artistic succour.
5) Paris. Cos its Paris, and He wants to go there (I think).
6) Istanbul. For the tapestries I hope to get at a substantial discount.
7) Lord’s. Obvious.
8) Wimbledon. For strawberries, cream and because daddy will then have led a full life.
9) Stockholm. So I can stalk Nobel laureates at the Grand Palace hotel.
10) Stonehenge.
11) Australia. Sky-diving at Cairns.
12) Venice. To take fancy pictures in the gondolas.
13) Zambia. Victoria Falls.
14) Khandala. Cos its in that Aamir Khan song.
15) Greece.
16) Italy. After Eat Love Pray. For the sinful food.
17) Iceland! For the Northern Lights and the smart people.
18) Cuba. For a roadtrip, just like the one in Viva Cuba.
19) Lyons. To see the INTERPOL headquarters?
20) Majorca. Cos it was in Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone. Bet you didn’t notice.
21) Vietnam. With Asmita.
22) Basel, Switzerland. For Fed, and the fact that Karla from Shantaram says it’s a nice place.
23) Bhutan. The resorts and the view.
24) Egypt! Pyramids.
25) Shillong. Cos they say Metallica wants to perform there. And it’s the north-east.

You?

The F-word.

2010-06-23T15:04:00.003+05:30

Feminism.

Define feminist.

Are you comfortable being called one? Do you wear the label on your sleeve? Is it something you shy away from, or is it something you proclaim you are because it sounds like a nice classification to fall into?

Does being a feminist mean being self-sufficient to a flaw, anti-male and anti-prettythingslikeLVandjimmychoo?

Does being outspoken automatically 'make' you a feminist, or does being a homemaker take away from you being one?

Do you hasten to clarify to people that you're more 'individualist' than feminist, whether/not they ask? Is the term too stifling a cubbyhole for your gender, or do you not want to think of yourself in terms of one at all?

Spill.

Ten heads are better than one.

2010-06-22T19:39:00.003+05:30

What if Tataki had proved to be too strong for Rama?

What if somebody had broken the Shiva Dhanush before Rama?

What if Kaushalya had been the one to ride Dasharatha to safety in the battle against Samhasura?

What if Shoorpanakha had chosen not to see Rama at Panchavati?

What if Ravana had failed to convince Maricha to do his golden deer gig?

What if, WHAT if Sita hadn’t strayed from the Lakshman Rekha?

Ravana would have been known to us only as the multifaceted, Veena-playing Shiva Bhakta that he was, albeit with a roving eye, and not the unfortunate archetype of all things evil.

And we would be able to see Raavanan [(2010), Vikram, Aishwarya Rai Bachchan, Prithviraj] for the great movie it is.

Why are epics untouchable? Why are we so willing to typecast emotions and qualities when it comes to mythology when we're only too ready to discuss divergence in a person's nature when we're reading Zen and Art of Motorcycle Maintenance?

Okay, Raavanan was NOT perfect, (spoiler alert) a) its silly that Ragini can find Veera's lair with her kajal looking perfect, when it takes Dev 14 days and a literal pull from Veera himself to. b) Dev might be a great cop, but smelt the rat in his department and busted him way too soon than would be superhumanly possible. But it had some solid acting, out-of-the-world visuals, and a pretty impressive story outline. It took me two watches to get to this conclusion, but anyone who isn't expecting to see the Ramayana TV serial etched out on screen would arrive at the same. (Ok, I generalize to make a point, sue me.)

Watch. Enjoy :).

His Dark Materials.

2010-06-05T15:28:00.002+05:30

Am I mad? Em ay dee? Am I dreaming?
Is this for real?
What is real?
REAL?
Even dreams are convincing enough when they play out. Marvel at dreams, at the brain taking it upon itself to fill in all those details you would never put in if you were awake and making up a story.
Is there just one world, that spends its time dreaming of other other worlds?
What would you give to know your innermost nature, to know why all those atoms in you chose to align themselves the way they did? What would you give to know see yourself, know yourself for what and why you ARE, the way you know fire burns and compassion is good?
Thinking is hard, but I cling on steadfastly.

I have
been a
stranger
in a strange
land.
-Exodus

________

PS- People import their blogs TO facebook, with me its the other way around. I have been doing a fair bit of writing, just not on the blog. Which shouldn't be the case. Samples of '09 below.

Hamsanandhi

2010-06-05T15:26:00.001+05:30

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2be-QXe5moo

She went about in her own silent way, touching all of our lives, skimming in and out of the big picture. She hated to be called for or recognized in public, even if it was to tell her the kolam looked incredible that day, or that the puli saadham she'd made for the temple was out-of-the-world delicious.

Losing your mother that early in life has an effect on you, she'd said, in one of her rare talkative moods. Its hard to impose yourself on people when you don't know what it feels like to be truly wanted by somebody. And then she'd clammed up, flustered at her implication that her early life was anything but perfect. Of course, she wouldn't hear anything against her father, him with the wide brow and the big turban. Him with the unfair eye, who regarded her as a devil-child, who would let her use only the brass vessels at home. Who got her married off as soon as people spoke of her monstrous musical talent.

Even years later, one would catch her humming to herself in the old kitchen, and then stopping abruptly, casting furtive glances at the yard, wondering if her father's spirit had heard and disapproved. But past her fluidity and evident concern for 'periyavaaloda' opinion lay a great diffidence for criticism, one that helped her raise a child found abandoned outside her doorstep, that helped her stand her ground and refuse when her 'well-wishers' spoke of getting her husband remarried to supposedly dispel his Irish curse.

Self-sufficient was she, so much that she insisted on rubbing turmeric on her own feet on the day of her wedding, squirming as her arthritic mother-in-law did it as keeping with tradition, wheezing and coughing. She'd squirmed in a different way altogether when her husband touched her toe, as he slipped her metti and looked up at her, like she actually mattered. Which was why, to her, regardless of her ignorance of the ideal of love and eternal bonds, he was the only one, impotence and the drinking habit and all.

The day she found Aarabi, or rather, the day Aarabi found her was something she'd never tire of talking about, except when her mother-in-law was around. Her love for music had finally found an outlet in her daughter, whom she said was born 'of her heart'. Aarabi started singing at the age of 4, in such adherence to Carnatic style that it was enough to stop anyone in their tracks.

I remember the day I saw her first, sitting backstage at one of Aarabi's concerts. Firstly, my eyes were riveted on Aarabi, and thank the good lord, her soaring, divine voice gave me ample, legitimate reason to stare at her so. As (underpaid, overworked) Cultural Correspondent of a prominent newspaper, it was none of my cheek to wonder angrily at how the mother of such a lovely catch had allowed her to be paraded in full view of public view like this, how she had allowed all and sundry to be witness to such purity, but I did so all the same.

And then I saw her. Eyes closed, fingers tapping against the impeccable folds of her brown nine-yard, drowning in the music like nothing else mattered. Until that moment, I knew nothing but Aarabi's main piece of the evening, in Hamsanandhi. The raw power of the composition, her versatile voice thriving on the Kakali Nishada, effortlessly jumping down to the Prati Madhyama. Hitting the higher swaras with ease and having her way with the lower ones too. Above all, the presence of her voice and sheer command over everyone present. The way she'd almost tease the accompanists with her intricate neravals, daring them to toy with the raaga as she did. The way she possessively caressed every note, with a kind of flamboyant arrogance, the kind that came only with true, unquestionable love.

But the minute I saw her mother, I felt as though every musical vibe in the hall emanated from her, as though she was why the song existed, as though she was one with the song. Hamsanandi, with its ups-and-downs and resplendence cloaked behind simplicity, was her. She was Hamsanandi.

One very happy married life with Aarabi behind me (a complicated story, I shall leave it for another day, but it has a most satisfactory ending), I knew my initial gut feeling about my wife's mother(/best friend/mentor) was true. She was a star in every way, braving the colds that came with her every rain-dance, the scratches that came with her every game of hopscotch. She would flit in and out of our lives, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, but she would always remain.

This piece comes right after Aarabi's first concert post her mother's demise. I have never discussed with her how Hamsanandi was synonymous with her mother to me, but if Aarabi's (coincidental?) main piece today was any indication, I have proof that my wife and me share more than just a bedroom. Today, Aarabi's Hamsanandi was repressed, dignified, melancholic, strong. Very much like her mother herself.
________________________________________
Sundar, good job as usual, but I don't think a write-up about your mother-in-law will help us much. A dispassionate review of your wife's concert, if you will. Also, everyone at the paper knows you were paid an obscenely low salary 20 years ago, stop mentioning it in every article. - Ed.

-April 9, 2010.

Old 55s.

2010-06-05T15:23:00.003+05:30

He passed the Gateway of India, distracted, repenting all those years of pain he’d inflicted on his wife. Repenting his drunken violence towards his kids.

He entered the Taj Mahal hotel, set for a meeting, and vowed to reform himself.

He glanced at the calender. As of 26th November ’08, he thought, he would be a changed man.
______________________________________

He coughed uncontrollably, and looked at the note his daughter left him the previous month.

“Daddy, plese stop smoking if you lov me. Promis?”

His eyes welled up as he reread it, after his wife left him, daughter in tow.

Seeking solace, he fished out a cigarette from his pocket and took a long drag.
_______________________________________
They couldn’t stop staring. She had always been the cynosure of all eyes. She had everything, they said.

At the party, everyone complimented her on her diamonds, her lovely sari. Gifts from her husband, she said.

Later that night, she looked at her watch. And wondered if her husband’s boyfriend had left their house yet.
_______________________________________

-November 8, 2009.

Because I should stop posting stuff I write as Facbook notes..

2010-06-05T15:17:00.002+05:30

Littul Joybundle.

Funny. Smart. Unfairly adorable. HOT. Mine.

Wakes up early to talk to me. Recharges phone (sometimes, after a lot of grumbling). Promises to eat my cooking. Adorably whiny when I'm not sufficiently talkative. Intuitive enough to make up for a million clueless guys. Splits the bill. Listens. Loves. Is honest. Is verbal about feelings. Thinks about future, a lot. Freaks out for the smallest of things. Takes offence for the smallest of things. Melts at the smallest of things. Thinks this is it. Is feel-good, in every possible way. Supportive. Confused. Seeks my opinion. Claims to feel better on talking to me. Reads and recommends books. Is aware of good cinema. Says cheesy things randomly, and means them. Makes effort to learn my mother tongue. Braves public transport for my company. Loves long goodbyes, and won't have it any other way. Secure. Makes everything seem funny. Cheers up. Isn't afraid of showing feelings. Gets irked with unnecessary bursts of temper. Keeps me grounded. Loves. Is loved. :-*

Has my heart. Can either break it/keep it safe.

Risky, but its a risk I'm willing to take.

Its worth it. :)

____________________

Fiction.

-December 6, 2009.

Savoy truffle.

2009-08-24T15:36:00.004+05:30

The thought of walking into my kitchen and finding THIS-

OR this-

makes me delirious.

And while we're on the topic, I made dinner day before yesterday, and it was actually edible. More on that later.

Does anyone else feel hungry on listening to Savoy Truffle?! Sieg Heil to The Beatles.

The Joker

2009-08-12T18:35:00.002+05:30

I am your truth. I live with fiery spirit, with a kind of intensity you can never dream of. How I flit through your insignificant life, untouchable. Distant. Frozen to contact. I just might accept you as a rival, but that will only be when I am at my weakest. And that will be my secret.

I know what you think, I know what you’re worth. I can see into your core, for I have lost mine. It’s easy to, for you’re vulnerable. Open to scrutiny, cracked, broken. Your recurring memories can break your spirit, cloud what you are, how can you be anything but easy to perceive?

A word of uncertainty from a voice insignificant is all it takes. You’re over. At my most human, you call me cruel. How can you deny me my amusement, my respite from what I think you are: unadulterated boredom.

I search for the wall that defies me, until then, I shall toy with you. Play along, for I might just escalate into a juggernaut that builds and builds with every slur I face.

I delight in your helplessness. The deluge is inescapable, learn to laugh. Look at the world around, this ordered mess. How many times do you feel thankful because it wasn’t you this time? Happy that it was that family halfway around the globe? The girl in the TV screen? Let it show, the world won’t love you any less for it. They’re all the same.

Under your veneer of virtuosity, I know what you are. I bite you when you’re cold, singe you when you burn. I pick at your scabs, I knock down your reading lamp. Believe it or not, its actually all you.

You cannot fight me, I will always be. Try it, social experiments always serve to fascinate. Pick up the knife, tease the grey blade into exploring your marrow. Until your insides throb. Malign your blood, try, for however it blots and clots, it holds together a race; but that is inconsequential to you and me.

I am why you feel. I am chaos. I am you.

__________________

By no stretch of imagination are these my thoughts. Forgive me if this is disturbing.
Listen to Vicarious and Sad but True over and over again. Read Sylvia Plath and look up Munchausens Syndrome by Proxy and MPD. Watch the season 5 finale of House MD. You can't not question identity then.

Okay I'm off to make pizza on those little bases you get at Nilgiris.

I doubt, therefore I may be?

2009-08-07T18:39:00.002+05:30

I've had absolutely no motivation to blog over the last few weeks. Its not like I'm all that busy or anything, I haven't thought of ANYthing worth writing about.

So many people around me live in the moment, all it takes to make them happy is a high grade in a test, or a compliment from a teacher. Why I have to complicate things by thinking of the purpose of life and all that jazz is something I truly cannot comprehend.

This summer, I thought. Most of us lead our lives in ways that are EXPECTED of us, we do things because our parents push us to or because its what the world does. Without this external propulsion, I'm positive a fair portion of us would be lost, or atleast I would.

So I asked the people around me, if they didn't have these social expectations, if time, money and status weren't issues, what would they do? What would they be TRULY happy doing?

Daddy said he'd buy every music CD ever recorded and listen to music all day. Amma said she'd spend all her time with her parents and their friends. I said I'd travel (subject to change.). Apoorvaa said she didn't know. My cousin Sowmya said she'd fly first class and be a doctor and an architect. Rekha Aunty and Srini Mama both said they'd write and read all they could.

But the cycle does prevail, our dreams hardly ever can escape studyworkmarriage. Competitiveness and being judgemental never really can escape our lives. I should know, enough people give me the sympathetic head-tilt when I say I'm a Commerce student (I've made my peace with that by the way, enough people have ALSO told me to let it pass).

I wish I didn't have to live with public opinion hounding me wherever I went. I wish I was fully capable of tuning public opinion out, of being able to live life Roark-style. I wish the world wasn't this cut-throat, I wish it wasn't always about the cut-off. I wish I'll be able to look back on my life someday and have no regrets. Isn't that what we all live for? Or are we too caught up in following other people's lives to notice our own?

I'm not entitled to all these dark opinions, I'm 16, I haven't even seen the world yet. I just think that there's more to life than a huge number on your marksheets or on your paycheck.

Its not very easy to sift through all these streams of thought in my head, sigh. Forgive me for being overtly sad and possibly wrong here.

Otherwise, I've been playing volleyball, among other things, for the first time in my life. Its highly gratifying to graze my knees, or see my forearms glow red after a reasonably good game I must say. I feel very sportswomanlike. My tan lines rock :D.

HOW true.

2009-07-18T17:08:00.007+05:30

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fwje82kzY6s&feature=related

Story of my life. :)

Lev Yilmaz is amazing, siiiigh.

Please tell me..

2009-06-12T15:19:00.002+05:30

1) You know how sometimes there are these songs? That sum up what you're feeling SO perfectly, that you marvel at how accurately they put it? And stuff like 'I go out of my way to step on a crunchy leaf' or cheesy emo pon and zi cartoons?

How does it make you feel, the fact there are other people who feel the exact same way you do? Does it comfort you, knowing you have company? Or do you find it unnerving, the thought that you aren't so unique after all?

2) Would you choose to be happy for a short period of time, even if you knew it would make you miserable later on?

3) Chocolate/cheese?

I'd love to know.

All apologies.

2009-06-12T15:06:00.002+05:30

I think I'm back.

Firstly, sorry for being such a negligent blogger. Also for cruelly ignoring all of your tags (if any) and choosing to fatten myself with Lay's and Chips Ahoy instead of venting on my blog. ALSO for being a grouch the past couple of weeks, thanks to the stupid stupid results.

I had a decent summer. Not the summer I'd envisioned to be honest (now THAT summer involved a lot of cheese and chocolate and me miraculously getting all fit and meeting a hot guy who'd take me sailing in the Mediterranean with my parents' blessing.), but still. A summer of lazing around all day with no guilt. A summer of repeated eating and staring at some screen, be it the computer's, my phone's, my ipod's or the tv's. A summer of lethargy, of complete uselessness.

After a point, it did get kind of annoying. Sitting home while there were people out there making a difference.

Ok, maybe all *I* was feeling then was total boredom, but honestly, there's only so much of vettiness one can take.

Anyhoo, to those of you who don't know, English and Social screwed me over these boards and left me with a 93%. I'm over it. AND I switched schools to GD, to the commerce group. More on that later, there's much to be said there.

Currently humming- All Apologies.

2009-04-27T23:04:00.002+05:30

I elaborate.

The reason I think Thaalis and other forms of marriage-jewellery are unnecessary for women is not because I find tradition redundant or Indian customs stupid.

Basically, a thaali represents the fact that a woman is married, it announces to the world that she's taken, so don't try anything funny. But if you think about it, its not like a woman is ONLY someone's wife once she's married, she's still a friend, a daughter, a sister, a granddaughter. None of these other relationships require anything like a sign on your forehead to show the world. They don't NEED badges, why this?

Also, I'm reminded of a conversation I had with my mom and Poongodi, our hired help. On a whim, I asked my mom why the wife had to proclaim her marital status to the world while the guy didn't really have anything that did the same?
Amma said it was a sign of security for a woman, and more than its actual place in the scriptures, it symbolizes that a woman is married and that she means something to someone.
I don't mean to sound vehemently feministic again, but why doesn't the Indian male do the same? A commitment bracelet or a wedding ring doesn't sound too bad does it?
Poongodi said that's how things were, 'onnum maaraadhu ma'.

Otherwise, I don't have anything against anything. :)

PS- Shyam, a friend of mine, blogs at http://avidthinkerprolificquestioner.blogspot.com/. He writes yamaaazing poetry and pretty darn awesome pieces of prose too. He wondered why I was against jewellery as a symbol of commitment and hence, this post. :)

The voice inside my head.

2009-04-26T12:06:00.002+05:30

Most people I know label me a feminist (I prefer pro-feminist, thank you very much). I have pretty decided views on women and what they have to offer the world. I am against the cult of patriarchy, ethnic cleansing targeted at women alone and all other forms of sexism.

I know for sure that I will remain secure and independent regardless of the presence of a man in my life. I know that I'll never fast for a man's possible gain, or announce my marital status to the world through a piece of jewellery (Karvachauth and the Thaali/Metti I mean). I know that I will keep my name for as long as I live, and not have it usurped by any other, also that I will have a life apart from whoever I'm with.

If you choose to call this militant feminism or anti-traditionalist, fine by me.

But of late, I've been listening to my friends rant on about their mutual infatuations (or maybe more) and I wonder. What would it be like to actually be on the receiving end of some good old-world chivalry? The kind we read about and roll our eyes at? Like say, having doors opened for you? Getting a bunch of flowers before dinner? Offering to pay whether or not I let you?

I know this completely blows my other argument, but is it wrong to be surprised once in a while? I AM perfectly capable of opening doors, paying bills et al.

But still. Sometimes I wonder.

Is that wrong?

In other news, I'd like to know. Does anyone stop to think before labelling other people a 'slut' or 'bitch'? Its so easy to point fingers, no?

I feel achingly lonely. Which probably explains why this post is all sad-sad. Anyhoo, it'll stop making sense to me in no time, as soon as my mood swings up again. :)

Don't mind me.

Another day, another tag :D

2009-04-26T11:28:00.002+05:30

DIRECTIONS:
- Go to Google image search.
- Type in your answer to each question.
- Choose a picture
- Use this website (http://bighugelabs.com/flickr/mosaic.php) to make your collage.
- Save the image for use in this note.
- Post and tag

QUESTIONS:
1. What is your name?
2. What is your favorite food?
3. What is your hometown?
4. What is your favorite color?
5. What is your favorite movie?
6. What is your favorite drink?
7. What is your dream vacation?
8. What is your favorite dessert?
9. What is one word to describe yourself?
10. How are you feeling right now?
11. What do you love most in the world?
12. What do you want to be when you grow up?

yeah, google me and see :D

They were there for me.

2009-04-24T21:26:00.003+05:30

All through the times when I felt alone. When I wanted nothing but company. And unlimited mud souffle. And some Meg Cabot/Tagore. And all those people from Dubai and Pune and Bangalore and Chennai and Vermillion and Cupertino to come back and talk to me.

They were there. And how.

A good 20 minutes could always turn my day around. And also make me realize HOW out of my league Matthew Perry is. Also how unattainable Courteney Cox would be, if I were a guy of course.

Thought. I haven't had a good conversation in such a long time. How very saddening.

If you're happy and you know it..

2009-04-17T19:08:00.000+05:30

Chennai is one of my most favourite cities in the world. I’m a small-town girl at heart I guess, and I can rave over the mountains and the trees as much as the next person. But Chennai rocks my socks. Every single time.

Its something in the air. The humidity is oppressive, the lingering scent of sweat in the air suffocates you, the sheer multitude of people can be pretty scary (to my mom atleast), but without all that it just wouldn’t BE Chennai.

We went to Ranganathan Street today, me, my mom and my 10 year old sister. My mom and my sister are the kind who love staying indoors, real far-from-the-madding-crowd types. But my dad and I are a little more adventurous, atleast if you consider my family alone. So from the dredges of my 5th std memories I summoned up the location of West Mambalam station and the way back to Nanganallur. :D (which is an accomplishment! Amma wanted to wait for the car.)

Ranganathan Street is, to say the least, overwhelming. The onrushing throng of people, the dominance of Saravana and all his Stores, Chocobar wrappers lying on the ground, stomped flat, tailoring offers coming from men with earnest, sweaty brows, little kids clutching their parents’ sleeves like lifelines, intensely coloured salwars clashing with their kurtas, all up for display. You look at all those people, on their own ways, doing their own stuff, with problems of their own, ostensibly not worried about whether they’re wearing Abercrombie&Fitch, whether the other people on the road notice them, whether they got tickets to that movie they wanted to watch, so on and so forth, and you feel humbled. And once again, I’m reminded in strange ways of how distinctive people actually are in themselves, and their total impact on the lives of people around them. Ok, random.

Anyway, from Palavanthangal Amma was just telling me about how Dad took her in a cycle rickshaw once immediately after their wedding, and I asked her why we couldn’t do it now, and so we did. :D The rickshaw puller said it ran on a motor and so there was no harm done to him. It was a first for me, and I enjoyed it. I took a picture of him once we got to Athey’s place, and he was simply thrilled.

It was a good day. I’m happy.

In other news, I bought a pirated copy of Paths of Glory and Love Story in Pondy Bazaar. I was tempted to buy Letters to the Penthouse, but then ultimately didn’t.

Half tag.

2009-04-15T20:06:00.003+05:30

Ten things you wish you could say to people right now (names withheld)

1) All I want is for you to be proud of me. I haven’t been what you want me to be, but I’d do anything to ensure that you’re proud of me. I’m so thankful for you.
2) Can’t you think for yourself for ONCE? Why are you afraid of the idea of having your own opinion?
3) I’m not angry/over-reacting. That’s the way my voice is. And please don’t read too much into what I say, I’m not putting you down the way you think I am.
4) Go buy me chocolate. And also. Stop lying, we do NOT have a divorced aunt who’s a fashion designer interning under Satya Paul OR a brother at a boarding school in Kolkata. I love you though.
5) I care for you the mostest, and I’m extremely glad you are what you are to me. You make me happy when skies are grey. You know I couldn’t get on without you in my life. I can’t put what we have into words, because that would be oversimplification at its craziest. Tu hai toh I’ll be alright :D
6) For the last time, you’re great company, I genuinely like talking to you. And I’d call you if I could.
7) Take us out for dinner no? I’ll clean my room tomorrow, for SURE.
8) Why did you have to leave? It’s a strange kind of disconnect, this. But I love the feeling I get when you’re here, it’s always like you never left.
9) Now that I realized that everything you said was completely meaningless, would you mind telling me why you did in the first place? Being around you is a supreme mindfuck for me. Still. You made me question my own worth, and that’s something I can never forgive you for. I STILL feel useless sometimes, thanks to your self-induced martyrdom and everything it brought.
10) I do respect you, but please, please drop the general obnoxiousness and that know-it-all air. How insecure do you have to be to come up with THAT as a defence mechanism? Your coldness scares the shit out of me, all the other little people might not be in your intellectual league, but do try not to be as unnecessarily sharp.

Nine Things About Yourself

1) I am a dreamer. And I can be very embarrassing to be around sometimes, thanks to my total stupidity.
2) Light matters a lot to me. I can’t stay in rooms which are darkish with no sunlight, no matter how beautiful they are.
3) I’m a compulsive worrier, and I manage to successfully ruin things for myself that way.
4) I want to live everywhere! I physically crave living in Paris, NY and Kolkata.
5) Books are my cocaine. I often re-read books and re-watch movies, and choose to do so sometimes even when new books and movies are at hand.
6) I have lots of people in my life, but very few I need to talk to everyday. My parents, Harith and Vidyuth are definitely among them.
7) I love the idea of becoming a diplomat/therapist/anything having to do with people because dynamics and relationships excite me. Anthropology and Politics are so interesting because you get to know about the impacts of actions/non-actions. And I love the idea of individuals having such an influence.
8) I have the most amazing family in the world, and differences apart, I’d be lost without them.
9) I have these randomly devised theories about life and faith and the universe and human nature and after that, everything that happens either modifies or reinforces those theories in my head.

Eight Ways To Win Your Heart

1) Be yourself.
2) Play hard to get.
3) Say something that makes me think/laugh and you’re there.
4) Listen hard and show me you care.
5) Be generous with hugs.
6) Do something insaaaane, just for me.
7) Give me my space, because I’m definitely one to give you yours.
8) Don’t play girl-games or keep me hanging, I can’t pursue anything without clear encouragement.

Five Things You Want To Do Before You Die

1) Experience Harvard. Meet John Nash and JK Rowling.
2) Hitchhike across Europe. Go bungee jumping and snorkeling in Australia.
3) Work for NatGeo. Start a restaurant. Speak for India at the UN. Work for communal harmony.
4) Fall in passionate, incomprehensible, insane love. Lose my head and do crazy things, all in the name of some guy I know I can’t live without.
5) Get 4 dogs, name them Shilo, Layla, Uzi and Pig.

I was bored. Not enough to do the whole thing though.

Her Morning Elegance.

2009-04-15T12:21:00.003+05:30

Exams are finally over, and I'm freeee in ever sense of the word.
I got my phone back, and I can tell you nothing has made me as happy as the smell of my phone in a very long time. Yeah, my olfactory tendencies sort of work overtime, sorry about that. My phone smells like.. home.

Other things I absolutely LOVE about being on vacation include not having to compulsively sort my books out, not having to colour code my files so I won't lose them, not having to fold my bedsheets in a hurry, I now have ALLL the time in the world to do them. :)

Also I get to wake up at 9 o'clock and sit like one diseased (glassy eyed, messy headed, like that) till Amma is forced to strip me and push me to shower.

I've been watching House MD, which has to be the MOST MAGNIFICENT series ever made. Currently on 118. That bitch Vogler. In other news, I've been eating out every day, the wake-up-early-and-work-out idea isn't working out at all. I watched Ayan, which I did enjoy, and I'm watching Ananda Thandavam this afternoon.

Going to Chennai tomorrow, yay, and Bangalore a couple of weeks later. I'm actually missing school right now, and some purpose these holidays would be divine. Oo, read Love Story by Erich Segal, which I thought was better that A Walk to Remember on some level, but is actually the same story in essence, except JennyOfLoveStory has none of JamieOfAWalkToRmmr's hoiler-than-thou-ness. Also read Ice Station, which did not live up to my expectations, but was a decent read overall.

Will start A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry today.

Hmm. Just a thought. How much of vetti-sitting and sleeping with no plan can someone take? Summer used to be my favourite time of the year, but I feel wasted sitting around like this. Maybe I should learn to cook. Now there's a thought. :)

Its a Wonderful Life

2009-03-08T09:54:00.004+05:30

This is something I wrote last year or thereabouts, so excuse the possible naivete.

I feel incredibly blessed to born in a country where I can say all I want without fear of my hands being chopped off, where I can listen to music and hum to myself without the fear of being stoned, where I can talk to people and hold my own without having to depend on a male to help me find my footing, where I can grow well into my 20's without the possibility of being forcibly married off to an old lech, where I can take my life where I want to without having to answer to anybody.

I feel extremely fortunate to be born in a family, to two parents who love each other, who support me in everything I do, who let me speak my mind, who have always wanted me to hold on to my convictions and hold my head high. Who have believed in letting me take my own decisions, who have given me immense freedom, freedom to the extent of being almost entirely hands-off. Who have loved me for what I am, who talk to me about everything under the sun, who have held their silence even when they thought I was a devil child thanks to my anti-idol worship rants so many times in the past.

I am thankful to be alive in a time where I don't have to look for a 'women's job' if I want to work, where I don't have to be a suffragette if I want basic rights for myself, where I don't have to be lectured on being a better woman if a man hurts me in any way, where I can actually get paid as much as a man for the same job, where I can go to college without having to drop out to get married, where I can see myself as a human being whose existence is not dictated by whose daughter I am or who I am with.

There are places today where women do not even get proper healthcare, sanitation or the basic courtesies most of us are so used to. There are men who cling on to their brutal mysoginistic beliefs and oppress the women in their lives, just because they are. There are women who submit to the endless putting down and don't bother standing up to it. This might be the wrong time to say this, in the wake of the attack of women in pubs.

But despite all that, I think its a great time to be alive.
Women are empowered, they know what they want, they go all out and get it. Put them in a mould and they'll break out of it. Try fitting them in a frame and they'll scoff at you. They've been there, done that, probably better than you. They love their freedom with an intensity born out of every form of suppression they've had to face in the past. They nurture, they care, they get things done. They find their footing, fall down, learn from their mistakes. They learn, trust, lend a helping hand. They revel in their education, they stand up to atrocities, they make up for physical weakness with steely emotional strength. This is generalizing at its worst, I know, but I live with the faith that a couple of decades down the line, equality will be so real you can reach out and touch it. It also helps that few men today are chauvinists. Again I'm generalizing, but its good to know that most males actually value the women in their lives and aren't afraid to let them know it, male reticence be damned.

Things are changing for the better, and that makes me feel good about the world around.

To all women. Happy women's day.

Why Slumdog works.

2009-02-25T12:25:00.001+05:30

NOTE- Daddy, this will be my LAST post for the next two months. Rest of you, leave in your good wishes and stuff for my boards. I'm going to need it!

This comes 2 days after the Oscars and since everyone's been talking about whether or not Slumdog Millionaire deserves the 8 Oscars, I thought I'd have my say as well.

Why it worked everywhere. I think the world embraced the movie because it fit everybody's perception of what India's all about. I mean, song and dance? Check. Slums and communal violence? Check. Call centres, brothels, crowds? Check. Maybe it does seem like Danny Boyle concentrated everything India's ashamed of and put it into a movie. Maybe it is something un-Indian claiming to be Indian. At the risk of sounding unpatriotic, whatever said and done, however exaggerated it may be, the movie only showcased the existing downside of the country. Don't get me wrong, India is so much more than all this. Poverty and corruption ISN'T what India's all about. But still, I think we all have to remember that ultimately this is a work of fiction. NOT a documentary on India and everything it stands for. The same thing goes for Aravind Adiga's The White Tiger. He had it all, the cynical, unapologetic style. The unrepentant protagonist unafraid to strip his country's seeming sheen away from everything it was proud of. India's naked Darkness. And it won the Booker.

Ultimately, with all the political incorrectness taken away, Slumdog the movie is a celebration of love, fate and spirit. Its a hundred coincidences put together in the name of destiny, and at the end, you feel good. Its about a guy you might bump into everyday in the streets, getting what he wants despite the odds. Maybe it isn't typical cinematic finesse. Maybe its predictable and corny. Maybe it isn't as dark as the movies today are. Maybe it doesn't deserve the Best Picture Oscar in itself. But with a practically unknown cast, a low budget and an utterly forseeable narrative, what its managed to do is commendable, according to me.

And one of the things it HAS managed to do is bring Indian talent to the fore. AR Rahman's genius goes way beyond Jai Ho and the rest of the soundtrack. But thanks to this, the world can now revel in everything he's capable of. International acclaim is what it takes for us to sit up and notice unsung heroes. Resul Pookutty, prime example. It took an Academy nomination for the everyday Indian to know who he was. Slumdog did its part in putting Indian talent on the map, even though in the process it might have showed the country in not exactly all its glory. It gives two slum children a shot at a life without the penury they faced until now. And in the process, it reiterates that slumdogs can indeed go far.

I'm not entitled to comment on whether or not it deserved the Best Picture Oscar, seeing how I haven't watched the rest of the movies nominated. And I do agree that there was way too much hype shrouding the movie for an honest appraisal of it. And that the awards that came its way were mostly because of its exotic appeal. Nevertheless, Slumdog Millionaire is a movie that should be watched and enjoyed for its creative appeal and its feel good factor. Hey, there's a reason we all love fairytales!

Disgusting

2009-02-25T12:14:00.002+05:30

I found this on Ani's blog.

YouTube - crazy racist family @ Tyra Banks show

I'm absolutely sickened. I feel ashamed of the fact that I live in an age where people like this still exist, and where they inflict their views on their children as well. How pathetic can we get?

Don't say anything.

2009-02-22T07:38:00.004+05:30

This is a list of women who I think are too pretty to live.

1) SCARLETT JOHANSSON! That face. Enough said.

2) Bipasha Basu. WHY is she so.. chiselled? And HOW do John and her manage to look so damn perfect?

3) Priyanka Chopra. -grins like crazy-

4) Rachel Bilson. She makes me want to adopt her and feed her icecreams for the rest of her life. And coo over her when she pouts because the icecream melted. Ok please tell me she isn't getting married to Hayden Christensen? I thought Adam Brody was the One!

5) Natalie Portman. Gaminesque perfection.

6) Jessica Alba. You can stare at her for ages and not want to be anywhere else for a long long time. Sigh.

7) Penelope Cruz. I don't really get this woman. She looks SO pretty sometimes, she doesn't even look human. I could say the same for Nicole Kidman! Maybe all women turn alien-like when they get together with Tom and his scientology crew.

8) Monica Belluci. Blame my fascination with Italy.

9) Padma Lakshmi. She cooks, she had an intellectual older man, she exudes SUCH endearing imperfection, what with that scar and all.

10) Jyothika. She HAD to be here! :)

The rest- Kate Winslet, Mary Elizabeth Winstead (still semi-celebrity, she should fix that soon. Sky High, baby? Not a good pick.), Sonam Kapoor, MEG RYAN, Shriya Saran, Laura Elena Harring (MY god.). I can't think of the rest.

Okay if this was weird, forgive me, I just have an eye for the aesthetically appealing. :D

The Oscars are barely a day away and I'll be home to watch it! I can't believe I'm this excited, but hey you can't blame me, its like Super Bowl Weekend+Cricket World Cup+SomeBigGig.

I predict..
Best Picture- Slumdog (Yes I know Milk should win, but that's what the Academy does)
Best Director- Danny Boyle (Surprise surprise)
Best Actor- Sean Penn (So I hear)
Best Actress- Anne Hathaway? Rachel Getting Married was supposed to be KICKass. I went and read the synopsis of The Reader on wiki though, so its probably Kate Winslet.
Best Supporting Actor- HEATH LEDGER (duh?)
Best Supporting Actress- Amy Adams :P
Art Direction and Costume Design and possibly Cinematography- Benjamin Button. No questions asked. Though I haven't watched it.
Animated film- Wall-E!
Music, Song- Slumdog, Jai ho.

Wait and watch I shall.

I need..

2009-02-16T13:57:00.002+05:30

- chocolate ice cream
- some company
- more time
- a reality check
- to watch a movie or two. Mulholland Drive anyone?
- a box of Bradman's
- self-actualization?
- Janani :(
- those construction workers across the street to STOP LISTENING TO SURYAN FM!
- some Pablo Neruda (Sonnet XI, my god. Its so passionate, its obscene)
- to learn Spanish so I can, in fact, read and understand Pablo Neruda.

Model Practicals tomorrow.
Pip-pip.

2009-02-15T14:18:00.003+05:30

I watched Dharm today. I cried.

We talk of being united in the face of diversity. We talk of being a nation of a thousand languages and myriad cultures. WHERE does the crying need for communal violence come in here at all? We're taught in school (even this year) that India is the land of unity in diversity. Fullstop. Why aren't we taught about caste differences and how they tear the secular fabric of a nation apart? Why aren't we told about partition and what it cost everyone? Why aren't we taught that reverse discrimination is wrong too? Why aren't we bothered about Kandhamal and everywhere else there's religious strife? What does it COST perpetrators to just live and let live?! I don't even KNOW what a secular nation means anymore, the idea of it is so abstract that I honestly canNOT imagine. Are instances of violence in the name of religion individual or institutional? How can the majority of today's youth even believe in the democratic fibre of a nation, when religious freedom has been prised away from Gujarat, Orissa, Bombay and so many other places so many times in the past? Especially when they find themselves cynically unable to acknowledge the existence of a God, a religion, and whatever it may stand for?

Face it, across socio-economic barriers, lots of people cannot help but see things through the veil of language religion caste subcaste and every other micro obligation. I don't see the point anymore. What is left for people to believe in? Is this what the beliefs of a gazillion people say? This knowledge, that something so many people in the past have clung on to as the driving force in their lives is actually the cause for such desolation, is supremely disconcerting. I don't know.

May good sense prevail.

Musings.

2009-02-14T15:06:00.004+05:30

I'm stuck for words more often than usual. Thought of writing poetry (-snort-), but then so many things evade rhymes, they're stuck there in my head. Where the rest of the things unsaid go. In those awkward spaces between laughter, in the hesitation between those reluctant syllables. There are things that deserve so much mention and yet, STAY there, giving me a head cold.

This didn't make much sense to me either. The Purpose should stare at me in the face wearing nothing but Dobby's tea cozy and I'll feel much better.

Tomorrow, I should work. Really work, I mean. I distinctly lack drive, so a good shake and peptalks are welcome.

Five minutes later

I somehow found myself looking up It Happened One Night quotes on IMDb, and my face just melted into this giant grin. Total mush ya.

Alexander Andrews: Oh, er, do you mind if I ask you a question, frankly? Do you love my daughter?

Peter Warne: Any guy that'd fall in love with your daughter ought to have his head examined.

Alexander Andrews: Now that's an evasion!

Peter Warne: She picked herself a perfect running mate - King Westley - the pill of the century! What she needs is a guy that'd take a sock at her once a day, whether it's coming to her or not. If you had half the brains you're supposed to have, you'd done it yourself, long ago.

Alexander Andrews: Do you love her?

Peter Warne: A normal human being couldn't live under the same roof with her without going nutty! She's my idea of nothing!

Alexander Andrews: I asked you a simple question! Do you love her?

Peter Warne: YES! But don't hold that against me, I'm a little screwy myself!

This is one of my most pointless posts. I promise the ones to follow will be worth wasting your time on. Heh?

But really, who knows, someday I will actually sound like a poem. Or a song. And realise that life isn't about worrying about where you're going, because it just hit me that if/when I do get there, I wouldn't know what to do next. Its ultimately all about the little things that make you smile. I will live like a song in my head.

Thalai sutthing, very much.

Happenings.

2009-02-13T07:45:00.002+05:30

The boards are a month and 4 days away, and this means goodbye phone, goodbye internet, goodbye possible time-wasters.

Its been 2 days since I switched my phone off, and I miss it like you couldn't imagine. A heartfelt post on how much I miss it and why it means so much to me will follow, but its schooltime now, and our 2nd revision marks are coming out.

And Vidyuth has a new blog.

2009-02-11T20:36:00.000+05:30

Easy.

It still rankles.

Why I survive.

2009-02-10T08:11:00.003+05:30

Where: X B
When: 29th January '09
What: Insanity personified.
How: Evening Zero hour. Need I say more?

Nivi and CK diligently work out analytical geometry and burst out in giggles for no apparent reason. Lekha chews the back of her pen (MINE!) with great concentration. Harith turns around over and over again to talk to MM and Arjun, who in turn are talking about Rish and Am. Harith says 'This and all won't last man, see see.' and Arjun replies 'Manidhan unarndhu kolla idhu manidhar kadhal alla.' I roll my eyes at him and at MM when he says 'Pinna, miruga kadhal aa?'. Prashant sits on his desk and surveys the class, looking for godknowswhat. Sushant comes up to him and raps him on the back of the head, starting a mini WWE raw. Nidhi, Vandana, Ruchika and Vishnupriya borrow my graffiti-ed steel scale so they can play truth or dare. Sanjana asks me to ask Sajin his total. I ask him and turn back front. He promptly starts to sing Yethi Yethi. Vishnumali and Nallasatish look into each other's eyes and seem to be having a serious discussion. Without warning, Nallasatish tries strangling Vishnumali, who says 'daaai adhu YENDHU da!' Abhay and Aravind commentadichufy as usual, Abhay's bullhorn voice ensuring everyone knows what he's talking about. 'Dai andha k*^&$%#$ p&^*#%&^$ m%^^&$ k%^$&@$% poi m%^*^%#^ p$%$&%^& n%^&* sollu.' Everyone cringes. Abhay looks pleased. A giggling Nidhi goes up to Ujjval and asks him to comb his hair, as part of her 'dare'. He in turn defiantly messes it up further, though I wonder how his hand doesn't get stuck in that mass of goo in the first place. Additionally, he untucks his shirt and hi-fives Suraj. Nilesh blandly looks around, massaging Satish's earlobe as usual. Satish swats him off a couple of times, but then gives it up as a bad job. P Mohan unblinkingly stares at VP, who doesn't seem to mind. Nivedha and the Preethis turn around, offer me bread with jam, call me 'stupit girl' and turn back front. The twins, whom Abhay unfortunately calls Angavai and Sangavai, look scandalised at the sight of Raghul and Robert chewing gum. KP and Abhi vie for Harith's attention by loudly laughing and cracking erm, jokes, but she being oblivious to things like these, examines my nails. Prashant is now calling Sushant names I doubt even exist, and Sushant sits unruffled with Raghavendra and gang, who as usual are looking at pictures of Katrina Kaif on their cell phones. Gaurav and Tahir sit with their feet propped up on the desk, playing something that looks from far like Chikuliba. Sultania takes out his Cuticura talcum powder and sprinkles on everyone's head. He decides cuticura, which in large doses smells quite vile, does not resemble dandruff. Zavid then proceeds to blow little plastic bits around the class, which the girls squeal at and try to swat down. S Divya and Manisha come up to the front of class and tell us a few riddles they saw on 9XM the previous day. Everyone falls silent for a second, like it so often happens. Sujivan says 'Why silence?' and they start off again.

Amidst all this, I smile.

For this is SBOA.
This is home.

I WOULD put up a picture of my class. Promise not to laugh.

Culture indeed.

2009-02-08T08:44:00.003+05:30

The Sri Ram Sene's attack on pub-goers (pub-going women*) has left me shocked, frustrated and very very taken aback. More than the excuse these 'brotherly culture-cops' hid behind, or the despicable way their culture-cleansing exercise was carried, its the blatant double standard that bothers me the most.

They say women drinking, going to pubs and having a good time is against Hindu culture. I didn't know Hinduism endorsed MEN doing the same things. And honestly, this is a country where female deities are revered as the essence of life, which they are. This is the same country where a bunch of hoodlums hiding behind religion physically assaulted a bunch of women, caught themselves on tape and publicised what they did to the max.

The worst part about such mindless chaos as an actual system of governance is that it works so well. Sadly enough, no woman IS going to go out clubbing in Mangalore for a while, not while these glorious upholders of our tradition are still around.

But think about it, its not just outfits like the Sri Ram Sene, bias towards males has been everywhere, since time immemorial. Men go out, party, play the field, drink, have a good time, oh yes they're just 'boys having fun'. And they ultimately go on to marry a demure Indian woman. Women on the other hand, are supposed to stay home and learn to make chapathis, for if they, god forbid, go out and PARTY like their male counterparts (-gasp-), the stench of gossip will always hang around them and their marriage prospects will be ruined for good. Even in the western world, the girl is always the 'slut. The boy on the other hand, is a 'player'.

When we're eve-teased? Oh, we were dressed provocatively. Groped on a bus? We were giving them come-ons! Assaulted? We were so asking for it, they're only human, cha. Physically abused? Its our fault, we were born weaker and so, incapable of defending ourselves. Victims of dowry deaths? Its us, its us, why did we have to be born into families that aren't rich enough? Abused at the workplace? Oh, we were too educated for our own good. We're WOMEN, how could we let that happen?! Domestic violence? Its our fault, we should know to keep our husbands happy.

Like it or not, the accusing finger always points at a woman. I'm reminded of this conversation I had with Tariq a while ago, on strength and how women use their feminine wiles to manipulate the opposite gender (I said some women like to think its their way of being nice, and making sure other people are nice to them. He just found it weird, but I digress). He said men were stronger duh (in which case they shouldn't PICK ON WOMEN! and be bigger people.), but I think strength isn't measured by how much a person can inflict, but how much they can endure. And that way, women are definitely the stronger sex. But women being ostensibly weaker physically, men taking advantage of them is plain cowardly. Pick on someone your physical equal if you do have to 'prove your worth as a male', beating up a woman doesn't really elevate you in ANYbody's eyes.

I'm still shocked and frustrated, but I'm no longer taken aback. So it is, so its always been. And so it always MIGHT be unless we all take a stand somewhere. Think about it, is this the kind of world you'd want to bring a child into? Knowing that s/he'll either be the messee OR the messer? The kind of world where animosity is so intense, a woman actually has to think twice before accepting a job or wish she was a different gender before leaving the house? A couple of centuries of male subjugation would actually do the world a great favour right now, because talk of balance and equality doesn't seem to be doing it much. All the same, this isn't a boys vs. girls debate. This is how things are as I see it, and it'd do everyone good to just be the best people they can be. Its the least we can do!

My 15th part 2.

2009-02-07T13:54:00.004+05:30

Ok, a friend of mine, let's call her Pam, read my blog and said 'it wasn't me' and that I was much more optimistic and happier in real life. So just know that however sad and upsetting my posts might be, I'm not half as neurotic as I should be about the boards and life et al.

Alright, so after that first surprise I was pretty much at peace with the world and waited for Tuesday all patiently. It wasn't much to look forward to seeing how my girlbunch, with the exception of Pam, weren't in town. Amritha was in Hyderabad, Divya was in Palani, Niran and Kavitha just couldn't go anywhere, Sanjana in Ooty, Swathi in Tirupur. So I woke up on my birthday and waited for Pam to come home, after which we took many happy pictures and went for a walk.

Somewhere around this time, I get a call from a very vague Niran asking me to go to Odyssey cos someone was waiting for me. She calls me 4 times in the next half hour, asking me to go there RIGHT NOW, and Pam was of no help at all in asking her what the hell was wrong. Soo we set off, passing Divya's house on the way, and go to Odyssey and found NO one there. We waited around, peeking behind the stalls, and still nothing. For want of better things to do, we walked to boomerang and downed a couple of milkshakes and walked back home, Pam unwilling to walk some more with me. I suggested we get pinky manicures at Green Trends, but she shouted me down.

We walk back, giggling like mad, and run into Saba (:|) on the way home. I open the front door and Amma holds out the phone so I could get another birthday wish. Pam flops down on the couch and I pull her towards my room, which is uncharacteristically shut. I OPEN the door and there are streamers hanging from the top of window. Those shiny chains they use as party decorations. A huge link-banner saying HAPPY BIRTHDAY ATULAA. And balloons and party hats everywhere.

I look at Pam, not knowing what to think, and there they were. Amritha Swathi Divya Sanjana and my sister, stooorming in from the balcony, holding out a camera, taking a picture of me looking like a star goldfish. What can I say, I was.. surprised. :)

The usual cake-cutting and face-creaming followed, and needless to say I was worst hit. We sat around taking more pictures and supersenti video, after which we walked to That's Y Food for mud souffles. Walking is just so much fun, especially if friends, pictures, laughter and random flowers lying around go with it. Post mud souffle, more pictures and walking. Walked to Odyssey, where I was asked to sit in Bon Bon like a good girl while the rest chose me a present.

They got me You Are Here, Meenakshi Reddy Madhavan, with a looooot of messages inside of it. We walked back home with a few packets of chips, called on a few classmates, went home, and danced with each other without a care in the world. Thus concluded an awesome awesome birthday. A few of my fav pictures follow.

Pam's missing. :(

Divya Sanjana Amritha Swathi Me Harith.

Something went wrong with 4.1 mp camera that day, the edges got all blurry, but I still like how it all turned out.

The guys at tyf wouldn't let us in cos it was nearly 3 o' clock, but they did when I said we were here for dessert only. They still had to pull down the shutters though, which fortunately made for optimum photogenic effect.

I love it that these girls faced my sulking for so long to give me this, cos I can usually be VERY difficult when I don't get what I want, and I wasn't very happy when I heard that they were all ahem, out of station. So yeah, I gave them a tough time, but they still managed to make this such, such fun. I love you, girlbunch. :)

ANYhoo, the moral of the story is, I take my birthday very very seriously and I expect other people to as well.
Unreasonable you say? Ah well, love me love my quirks :)

Mood of the hour- Beginnings of a headache. :( Sports day was yesterday and it was so utterly pointless.

I am SO bored..

2009-02-04T21:27:00.002+05:30

.. I will probably write something Bell jar-esque and shock everyone. Chumma.

Though anything having to do with wrists and bathtubs and sharp things get me so fucking scared, I have to sing 'I just can't wait to be king' to compose myself again.

Speaking of songs, I was listening to this song by Ingrid Michaelson called 'The Way I Am'. Its suuuuuper sweet and makes me feel the way I used to feel when I pictured phantom conversations with Dev Patel in my head. Its funny how jaded and cynical I've become compared to a few months ago. Its not like I've been through a personal tragedy of any sort since then, but I no longer say 'Aw how cute!' to the little things, and I can't bring myself to be all cutesy and supportive when the girls talk about the significant others. I don't know. Goodbye, Miss Mayonnaise. But I did enjoy the song, so I guess I'm not as cold as I think I am.

Also, there's this story I saw someplace about how Ernest Hemingway was asked to write a story in 6 words and he said 'For sale: baby shoes, never worn'.
Hehehe, that's something I'd so laugh at if it was told in front of me. My six word memoir would probably read '15, and already worried about healthcare.' Best I can do. The reason why I'm not a writer already. Tell me yours!

ALSO, I regret to tell whoever's reading and not an orkut friend of mine that I am now going to lock my scrapbook on account of how all the scraps I'm getting are 'woww cuutie..... u wnt 2 make frndship???'. I usually find the disclaimers saying 'STAY AWAY DON'T ADD ME' unnecessary, cos really, it goes without saying. The only reason most people I know sign into orkut at all is to say something nice back to the people we know who scrap us, or maaaaybe accept a testimonial that will make you want to cuddle the writer to bits. I also keep my scrapbook unlocked in belief that someday, somehow an old acquaintance or two will find me and
renew our happy acquaintance. Tough luck pa, guess you'll all have to email me after all.

ANYhow, mood of the hour- grouchy and SO in the mood for some tv, which is stupidly acting out now. My life is so devoid of profundity. And the most emotion I could sum up this evening was to tell amma how annoying I find Paris Hilton. Jump off a cliff you, like really.

Silent E.

2009-01-31T10:51:00.002+05:30

"Who can turn a can into a cane?
Who can turn a pan into a pane?
It's not too hard to see
It's silent e

Who can turn a cub into a cube?
Who can turn a tub into a tube?
It's elementary
For silent e

He took a pin and turned it into pine
He took a twin and turned him into twine

Who can turn a cap into a cape?
Who can turn a tap into a tape?
A little glob becomes a globe instantly
If you just add silent e

He turned a dam - alikazam! - into a dame
But my friend Sam stayed just the same

Who can turn a man into a mane?
Who can turn a van into a vane?
A little hug becomes huge instantly
Don't add w, don't add x, and don't add y or z,
Just add silent e "

This is something I came across by Tom Lehrer, that genius. Letters can be so bloody powerful sometimes, and words are what make you you. I'm having this huuge insignificant moment now, I can't imagine how small I'd be if there were no words. Thoughts crashing around in your head, with no way out. Brr.

You.

2009-01-29T18:00:00.002+05:30

I think there might just be a god.

I stood on my balcony last week and looked at the moon. It's enchanting, whole, perfect, emanating the kind of radiance even non-poets could wax eloquent about. There are jagged traces of yellow all around it, little jagged traces, just enough to flirt with the dark of the sky, just enough for it to almost say 'peekaboo' and disappear. For children to look at it in awe, in wonderment, in anticipation of newness. For lovers to stare at together, watching their common dreams unfold in the promise of the vast sky. For people to look at it for hope, for peace of mind, for things they look for in war and destruction, and never find. For me to be reminded of you.

To make me smile again. To see you in my mind's eye, perfect as always, running your hands through your hair. To think of your eyes, in all their gold-flecked russet glory. To picture you laughing your perfect laugh, even though I can't hear you. The silence is deafening you see.

I claim to be a cynic, a pessimist, who sees nothing wondrous in the world around. Someone who thinks the world lives and dies behind a facade of goodness, lifting at times to give us world wars and atom bombs. Someone who thinks there's nothing to live for, but the ultimate, all-encompassing armageddon.

I'm also the same person who looks at the moon and a lot of other things, thinks of you, goes dizzy with an onslaught of memories, and grins like a maniac.

I love you. Doesn't it show?
________________________

PS: PURE FICTION.

MY 15TH. :D

2009-01-27T19:46:00.003+05:30

My 15th birthday is something I will keep coming back to when I picture the perfect birthday.

Alright, I'm one of those people who are nearly impossible to surprise. That said, my friends threw me not one, but two surprise parties this year. And I was surprised not once, but both times. Okay FINE, so that blows what I said just now. Anyway.

Siddarth calls me like a week before my birthday and we plan a random meeting at subway the coming 28th. (Ok, my birthday's on the 30th of September, but I really had to blog about it) Soo, I say fine, and Sunday comes, and my mom and I spend the afternoon at fabindia kurti-shopping. My mom then drops me off outside Subway and I call Siddarth to ask him where he is. The following conversation ensues.

me: Hey man, where are you?
Sid: Uh, atu, I'm leaving. Where are you?
me: I'm there already, I'm standing outside.
Sid: Uh, okay, wait till I get there. There are monsters in there.
me: Eh?
Sid: No, just wait for me and Niran. It isn't a very good place.
me: O k a y. I'll wait for you guys at Nilgiri's then.
Sid: Great. Just don't go in ok? bye!

So I walk around Nilgiris, looking at the magazines and NOT the make-up like Vishal later claimed (wtf.), when Amritha calls me and tells me about how she's bored at home with nothing to do. I couldn't drop the monster thing though, and the possibility of a surprise.. hit me. Just like that. Aaand my knees went all weak, my jaw dropped and I'm pretty sure I choked up a bit too. I stood right there, ohmygodding till Siddarth and Niran arrived, Niran looking all spry wearing those hoops she keeps only for special occasions (Second clue, there!). We walk into Subway, rather undramatically, because I was so looking out for feet under the tables or.. something like that. The guy behind the counter was looking at me and towards the bathroom door all curiously, and THEN they all troop out, Vidyuth Kb Vishal John Amritha. I really don't remember how I reacted, what with Niran and Amritha commanding me to startcryingNOW!(I didn't, the initial throat-choking had gone away, all I think I did was grin like mad), but it was surprisingly awesome, how they'd kept this from me for so long and actually gone ahead with it despite me acting so nosy(I left those parts out, but I was nosy).

We took no pictures that day, or I'd so put one in here, except for this one to see how much taller Vishal was than me, but I think I deleted it right then. :|

Thanks you guys, I can sure tell you that made my year. :)

Part 2 will soon follow, my fingers hurt now.

the year that was.

2009-01-27T19:21:00.003+05:30

It's been nearly a year since I even gave my blog the time of day, and something tells me blogging will seeeeriously help my nerves.

Okay, 10th std.

Sometime in May last year, I was inundated with people everywhere telling me how this year's going to decide where my life is headed and how I'd better jump into Muthannakulam if my boards become thandavaalam (Yeah, David said that. Something like it.).

Then the books came and we all drew up study timetables and compared them and tried fitting in two more hours of maths in there (pffft.). And THEN school started. W were practically alienated from the rest of the school (who, by the way, could never ask us anything but 'hi ka, how is tenth, hectic no?' when we DID run into them.), what with our crazy timings and such.

In a matter of three months, we'd finished half of our portions, gone on a day long trip to Top Slip (which was mad fun, despite the fact that we spent exactly two and a half hours at our destination and spent 8 hours in commute. That deserves a blog post of its own, cha.), and written around 4 slip tests, enough to tire anyone (ok, me) out.

Needless to say, the study plan lay forgotten, and I was perfectly content with the 90sth marks I brought home every other week. I had, what 7 months to go for the boards after all. And ha, who's gonna remember my slip test marks when I'm a diplomat with the UN? The quarterlies came by, and I conveniently left all the studying to 4amthemorningoftheexam, and spoilt Vidyuth's birthday for myself (the marks came out then). I got around 87% and around 7 hours of advice/lecturing/pep talks/what call you from the parentals.

The halfyearlies were slightly better, if that's what you call a 92%. At the moment, I'm feeling queasy everytime someone mentions May, cos really, I don't mind taking the boards tomorrow, its the results I hate thinking about. This might seem unnecessary to someone who's already taken the boards, but I wish I wasn't at this point of my life right now. :(

Also, I'm writing this with a revision exam the next day, and I do know that this isn't a very good comeback post nor does it tell you anything about the erm,' year that was' that you might've wanted to know. But hey, it sure feels good to tell people to STOP ASKING ME IF I'M GONNA GET A STATE RANK ALREADY on a public forum.

B-)
__________

I want to watch Delhi 6. I think Sonam looks supercute with those strands of hair framing her face like they do, aw.

Who wants to come with me?

This is to let you know..

2008-03-24T19:02:00.006+05:30

..that my blog will continue to house terribly mokkai posts. Live with it.

Last read- The Kite Runner.
Impressed. Muchly.
After reading Khaled Hosseini, everything else seems lacklustre and bland. Profoundly moving and poignant.

*spoiler warning- if you are V or if you have not read the book, do not read the next two paras*

I don't know if its just me, but I've always found myself affected more by things I COULDN'T relate to, as opposed to things I could. That totally blows the 'sympathy-empathy' discussion doesn't it?

For example, in 'A Thousand Splendid Suns' (Khaled Hosseini's other effing brilliant book), I recall myself being extremely disturbed by what 14 year old Laila had to go through. That was nothing compared to how I felt when arguably the strongest character in The Kite Runner cried. The characters are sketched out so darn beautifully that you can't help marvelling at Hosseini's writing prowess. Written predominantly in Amir's point of view (lapsing into Rahim Khan's POV only in one solitary chapter), the writing is unapologetic. The Kite Runner is simply one of the very few books I've read that didn't have solely black or white characters. Amir's thirst for redemption and the way he uncertainly embarks on his journey to repair his flawed self is so real and so richly described, you could reach out and touch the story with your fingers.

I seriously can't do justice to the book without relying on clichés, so read it yourselves.
Rating-****1/2

Last watched-Jodha Akbar.

I was one of the VERY few people who liked the movie, I note. Not that I've seen many period love stories, but this will be the best. Now and forever more. I'd do anything to get these stupid Tamil-dubbed versions out of Coimbatore and the Hindi version back.

This is the second movie where I was actually pleased with the way Aishwarya Rai carried herself and yes, without that 'pancake on her face' (The first was Guru). Jodha is the kinda of woman you can't help but look upto. The independent lioness, yet the meek kitten. The fiesty lass, yet the dutiful family-bound daughter.
The role of Akbar seems chalked out for Hrithik Roshan, and I say this not only because of his drool-worthy, oh so sexy abs. Pshaw. Funnily, before the movie released, I was of the opinion that while Hrithik'd make a convincing Hindu ruler, he didn't really fit the bill when it came to Akbar. This was based on the pictures of Akbar I'd seen in my history book, mind you.

The chemistry, needless to say, is brilliant. She is colour to his black and white, pink floyd to his rage against the machine, the unperturbed iceberg to his hypersensitive nuclear reactor. Cha, *I* wanted that with *MY* soulmate!

LOOK at him. I never really liked him all that much before, but LOOK at him! *prises eyes away from screen with great difficulty*

Catch it with friends. You will not regret it.
Rating-****

Random Thought- What if Aishwarya Rai's dad had named her Atulaa?

.....

This is a fervent plea for comments. So please do oblige.

Mind eet!

2008-03-24T18:32:00.002+05:30

I've never really understood the need for SMS lingo. I mean, I do understand that you do a lot of things with your fingers say, stick them up your nose, but when you're using a keyboard, it won't kill you to type in 3-4 extra characters will it? Hey, it sure keeps those fingers in shape!

Okay, check this-
"hiiii ur 2222222 swt.. i lv u.. frds 4vr!!!"

That was just an example, but I don't see the message coming through, do you?

A woman, without her man, is nothing.
A woman: without her, man is nothing.

The teacher said the student was a fool.
The teacher, said the student, was a fool.

Hence punctuate.

Sunday

2008-03-09T11:26:00.002+05:30

I know I'm plagiarizing this from my other blog, but whatever. I felt like I needed this on the new one too. Oo by the way, did you happen to know that Princess Leia's only 5 foot nothing?!

*Yeh Ishq Hai-Jab we met*

God, I KNOW that there was a time when I couldn't possibly bring myself to listen to stupid commercial Hindi movie songs, but unfortunately when I told my dad that most of my music was gone, he downloaded 300 HINDI TRACKS for me. And that is that for now apparently.

I have a huge stock of Kisses at home now. Oh and Oreos too. I was thinking, instead of the clichéd wedding ring, the guys should think about giving their little hearts a lifetime supply of Lindt or something. No wait, I AM too much of a bling lover to pass a ring up, but hey anything works.

Talking about Kisses, picture this.
Michael J Fox-ish man- Hey, wanna kiss?
Woman- Sure! (puckers her lips expectantly)
Man- (Drops a Hershey's Kiss into her hand and walks off)

Hahahaha.

WHAT YOU COULD POSSIBLY SAY WHEN SOMEONE/SOMETHING SAYS HE/SHE/IT LIKES YOU-

Hmm, toughie. You could probably blush and paw the floor with your toes. You could maybe tactfully change the topic or if you luckily happen to be at a party and are serving the martinis or something, you can just say, “Oops, gotta keep passing!” (Not that it’s ever happened to anyone I know, but I just thought it would be an interesting way to escape intense embarrassment). In the remote possibility that you like the person in question, you could squeal and jump up and down on the balls of your feet. You could say “Ditto.”(Ooo my favourite! *grins and bats eyelashes* My way of paying homage to Patrick Swayze in ‘Ghost’). Oh yeah and Han Solo! “I know.” is by far the classiest reply someone can come up with!

Now, trust me when I say I’m not condoning the drastic rise of the ‘not-single brigade’ and please, please believe me when I say I’m pro-relationship! It’s nice to have an emotional rock to lean on and blah blah, but yeah, don’t center your life on whomsoever you asked-out/proposed to/like. Lawl.

And if you’re ever in dearth of ideas on what to say, just go “Look, your Worshipfulness, let’s get one thing straight. I take orders from just one person- me.”

So, yeah, Han Solo IS a nice blank-space-in-tête-à-tête filler. And yes, this was the randomest post ever. All I can say is I was inspired, Your Honour!

Princess Leia and Han Solo forever. <3

StupidRandomThing

2008-03-06T19:33:00.003+05:30

Rules:
1. Put your MP3 player on shuffle
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
3. You must write the name of the song no matter what. No cheating!

I got this from some random blog. And it is rather fun to do. And the fact that I am utterly bored does not matter. A bit.

IF SOMEONE SAYS “IS THIS OKAY?” YOU SAY?
Go to Hell (Megadeth) – i'm like awesome!

WHAT WOULD BEST DESCRIBE YOUR PERSONALITY?
Wrathchild (Iron Maiden)- Hahahaha.

WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL?
Cure for the Itch (Linkin Park) – pardon?

HOW DO YOU FEEL TODAY?
I Don't Wanna Miss a Thing (Aerosmith) – hahahahahahahahahahahaha!! :D

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE’S PURPOSE?
Here Is Gone (Goo Goo Dolls)

WHAT IS YOUR MOTTO?
Desperado (Eagles) - gethu no?

WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?
Hello, I love you (The Doors) – YAY!!

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR PARENTS?
Here without You (3 Doors Down)- um. *sniff sniff*

WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN?
World Wide Suicide (Pearl Jam)- ok, WHAT am I to make of that?!

WHAT IS 2+2?
Ocean's Avenue (Yellowcard)

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND?

Don't Go Away (Oasis) – true, this.

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
Truly Madly Deeply (Savage Garden)- i LOVE this song. Freaky how the whole thing actually makes sense for me!

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY?
Falling Slowly (Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova)- Um. yeah. That's fine.

WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?
Somebody To Love (Queen) - *beatific grin* Are you reading this Mr Soulmate?!

WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
The sound of silence (SnG) – hahahaha, yeah RIGHT.

WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU?
Hey you (Pink Floyd)- say what?

WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING?
Chura liya hai tumne jo dil ko (Yaadon ki Baaraat)- hmm, I just might.

WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?
Bleed the Freak (Alice in Chains) – I would like that. Really.

WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST?
Clocks (Coldplay)- Um, close enough?

WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET?
Llama Song Tamizh (A.V.A)- hahahahahahaha :D

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS?
Sweet Child o' Mine (Guns n' Roses) –Oh yes, my baybeesss!!! Come to meee!

WHAT SHOULD YOU POST THIS AS?
Don't go away (Oasis)- Ok. If you insist.
_____________________

Random Thoughts- My phone looks like a sophisticated soapbox with buttons.

And I can't seem to type in anything but italic. HELP!

1/6th through the year.

2008-03-02T14:08:00.002+05:30

This is what you'd probably call a late new-year-ushering-post.

Last year and in the year so far, loadsa things happened. Many people met, many laughs laughed, many thoughts thought, many opinions expressed, loads of time wasted. I turned 14, I reinforced faith in my beliefs. I learnt that no one is worth your tears. Those who are simply won't make you cry.

I keep cursing the system of late, though it thoroughly doesn't help one jot. An unnamed student of arguably one of the best colleges in Coimbatore tells me that a Professor of his unabashedly said that merit would soon hold no merit in college admissions in the years to come. :-|
But that IS a while away, so I'm not thinking about it for now.

I continue to derive pleasure from the little things, my music, talking to my people,
eating sinfully indulgent chocolate, stealing online in the middle of the night and many more which I am incapable of remembering right now. *blushes* Oh yeah, thats ANOTHER thing I meant to rectify in my flawed self- I take these little pleasures so much for granted that I don't even recall what they are. All I know is that I'd be lost without them.

On the other hand, 9th standard is slowly trickling to a close and somehow, this makes me apprehensive. Possibly because I've not been playing up to my strengths this academic year or because the people who're rubbing in the fact that next year will make or break me are actually getting to me.

Misunderstandings galore. I hope they get cleared up for good this year. Fortunately, most misunderstandings patched up all by themselves, the frost melted, the walls broke down.

Through everything, I've been a nice girl. I think.

To all of you, who have loved or hated me, who have stood by me or walked away, those who have been nice or mean, who have helped me or stabbed me in the back, thanks.
If I'm happy-happy and all contented today, its because of each and everyone of you. Thanks again.
_______________

Random thought- "Who're you?"

The difference a tiny apostrophe can make. *sigh*

good times

2008-03-02T11:39:00.004+05:30

I was just looking through my 3rd standard personal diary. Yes, I did have one back then and yes, I used to write in it diligently every day. With a little box in the right bottom corner filled with illustrations of me and ugly caricatures of the other people in my life, no less.

I'm actually getting a little teary eyed right now, thinking of K's thread ceremony (explained in minute detail in The Diary), my "project" about world peace, my crush on that spiky-haired sixth grader, my first major fight with J, the first time I got the 4th position in class, et al.

I seriously can't believe I used to be that innocent and un-conniving.

In retrospect, I'm coming to realize that I was best as a kid. Finger painting, strange storytelling, kai-thutthu eating (for the uninitiated, mother/grandmother dropping bite-sized portion of your rice into the middle of palm for you to eat?), playing house-house, ship-ship, caravan-caravan. Brilliant times..

I'm such a misfit in the bigger world. Sometimes I want to rest my head on my grandmother's lap and let her run her fingers through my hair and magically make things better. But yeah, even the wanting is indulgent, sadly.

The 12th std public exams start tomorrow, and for some reason, I'm getting nervous. Good luck, y'all! I'll actually go to the temple and plead for some divine intervention, not that you peeps need it.

I need

2008-03-02T11:32:00.002+05:30

more people in my life I can be myself with. More people with whom I can be simple, dumb, crazy. weird, all in all, myself.

People who don't openly gawk at what I say, people who don't cringe when I tell them how much they mean to me, people who understand.

Today's the birthday of one such person. Have a great year, ge.

Today will be a day of new beginnings. I will study my ass off and actually vent my feelings on my blog and not on my alarm clock/sister.

I really mean the studying part. REALLY.